


If Hell is in your arms, let’s just call it Heaven

by 44TayLo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Emotional Sex, Gamma Mutant Tony Stark, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sexual Roleplay, Wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 14:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17982830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/44TayLo/pseuds/44TayLo
Summary: "Tony simply laid there for a moment and tried to catch his breath. Eventually, he looked up at Bruce with a shit-eating grin. 'I didn’t ask you what you deserve or what you need,' he said, still a bit breathless. 'I asked you want you want.'”Tony is injected with a mixture of Extremis and Bruce's blood, turning him into a gamma mutant. It leaves him with some unexpected powers, and leaves Bruce with even more unexpected guilt.





	If Hell is in your arms, let’s just call it Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dr_zofia_bites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zofia_bites/gifts).



> This is weird. Fun to write and very cathartic for me, but weird nonetheless. dr_zofia_bites came up with an idea where Tony is injected with a mixture of Extremis and Bruce's blood, and it turns him into a sexy, devil-like gamma mutant. This was my take on what we came up with in the Discord server regarding that idea.
> 
> This is my first time posting graphic smut, and I'm a little nervous.

 

When Bruce closed his eyes, he sometimes still saw Tony thrashing on that metal table, red burning into his skin and eyes glowing yellow while he screamed. He’d only been semi-conscious, and his hazy state of mind only enhanced the panic surrounding the memory. Adrenal inhibitors had been fed to him constantly through an IV drip to keep Hulk at bay, while elephant tranquilizers coursed through his veins and left him immobile. Of course, when the arc reactor began melting as it was pushed from Tony’s chest, not even God himself could have stopped Hulk from tearing out of his skin. If only he could have done so, sooner.

Tony didn’t mind being a gamma mutant. That’s what he told Bruce, anyway. Despite his assurances, Bruce couldn’t shake his feelings of fear or anxiety.

Tony was tall when he transformed, though not supernaturally so, and red like blood or a rose. His eyes glowed yellow, pupils lost in the light they emitted. His tail was odd. It ended in a pointed triangle, and tended to knock things over, much to Tony’s embarrassment. Bruce always felt it, secondhand and strongly.  He should. It was his fault. His blood mixed with Extremis had done this.

Tony’s canine teeth were longer, almost fangs but not quite. This was all remarkable and, for Bruce, damnable. But not even Bruce could argue that Tony’s wings weren’t magnificent. They were leathery, red skin stretched over long fingers of bone, and incredibly large. If nothing else, Tony could fly whenever he wanted, now. He would always be free. Bruce couldn’t help but wonder if the price he’d paid for that freedom had been too high.

“All I’m missing are the horns.” Tony stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that to see what he could turn into. It was said without his characteristic, snarky grin, a pained look on his face that he couldn’t hide. Not when he was red.

All Bruce could do was take this familiar, new face in his hands and gently kiss him. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—_

It seemed any strong emotion was enough to trigger Tony’s transformation. He retained his mind and his personality, but he seemed more intense, more saturated. He talked even quicker than before, and his emotions flashed and flickered so brilliantly that Tony couldn’t hide them behind a sarcastic mask. He was beautiful, Bruce thought. And he hated himself for finding Tony’s newfound vulnerability endearing.

He watched as Tony struggled to reign in his emotions. Passion was Tony’s calling card, but now he was damned to choose between looking human and dampening his emotions, or being his whole and uninhibited self, regardless of who was around. They both knew Tony couldn’t do the former continuously, and he couldn’t accomplish it at all without a lot of despised and unwanted practice. So, he was red most of the time.

It wasn’t so bad, he assured the team, once he’d made a suit that could accommodate his new stature and appendages. Bruce remembered bringing Tony home, both of them going down to the garage after Tony had gotten some much-needed rest, and after he’d observed his new appearance. He’d stared at his armor longingly, eyes only leaving it when he reached up with a sharp intake of breath and felt the tear tracks on his face.

“What the fuck,” he whispered, his voice broken and shoulders shaking. “I can’t stop. Bruce.” He stared at him, eyes wide and truly terrified for the first time. “I can’t stop!”

Bruce held him while they both broke down and cried.

Tony could produce flames at will from his skin and breath. That particular power he likely owed to Extremis. But there was another ability he’d gained, one that had been produced from the gamma that coursed through him, suffusing every cell and unlocking the depths of his mind and soul. Bruce didn’t put two-and-two together for days. It was odd for him to be so irritated with Steve for no reason, sure, but he was intimately familiar with crushing despair and anxiety that threatened to lock your limbs in place. It wasn’t until after Tony piloted his suit for the first time, his own wings carrying him so that he could devote more energy from the built-in arc reactor towards weaponry, that Bruce began to suspect it.

He’d been sitting alone in the garage, waiting for Tony to return, when the silence had suddenly been interrupted by a breathless laugh. Bruce couldn’t stop. He felt elated, free. He laughed so hard tears streamed down his cheeks, and then Tony touched back down in the garage, a brilliant smile on his face, and Bruce felt the foreign happiness lessen enough for him to regain control.

They ran a few tests, but it quickly became apparent that Bruce’s hypothesis was correct: Tony could influence other people’s emotions. Normally, he had to be close enough in proximity to see someone in order to influence them. With Bruce, however, distance didn’t seem to matter. Bruce figured it was because the source of the gamma had been his blood. Tony agreed, but he also proposed that it could be because they were so close. So intimate. Bruce wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Months passed, and Tony learned he could control his new form. It was difficult, but he could mask his emotions with practice (not well enough to trick the team, but he was beginning to fool strangers), and he could keep his emotions from influencing others unless he wanted them to, as long as they weren’t left unchecked. If he felt something strongly enough, he couldn’t help put exude that emotion and project it onto those around him. And Bruce, well, Bruce could feel his emotions at a low level no matter what. They’d figured that out the hard way.

Bruce hadn’t even known what the fight between Steve and Tony had been about. One moment, it seemed they were being civil about the disagreement, and the next they were at each other’s throats. Anger burned its way through Bruce’s veins, and Hulk roared to life in his head and through his throat.

Tony and Steve froze at the noise.

“Oh shit.” Tony stepped away from Steve and knelt in front of Bruce. He took his hands in his own, breathing slow and measured, until the anger had passed and Hulk was rumbling contentedly, though somewhat confusedly, in the back of Bruce’s head. Tony looked around the room, confusion present and unfiltered on his face. “Did I make anyone else angry?”

No one else had been affected. That led to yet another series of tests, the most interesting of which hadn’t been planned. Tony had walked into the lab to find Bruce clad in a pair of his skinny jeans and a band T-shirt, and before even noticing Tony’s presence, Bruce found himself painfully aroused. He only barely kept himself from palming his cock through his jeans. Instead, he looked around the room to find Tony staring at him unabashedly.

They fucked, for the first time since Tony’s transformation, on the floor of the lab. Once Tony’s libido reawakened, it seemed he couldn’t wait to get his hands on Bruce. And Bruce, affected by Tony’s emotions, was hornier than he’d been since he was a teenager. This could only be somewhat blamed on Tony’s new abilities, because even without that ever-present arousal, there was rarely a time Bruce didn’t feel in the mood to fall to his knees and take Tony’s cock between his lips, or to feel Tony stretched around his fingers before he finally sank his cock into Tony’s tight heat. The only thing that had really changed was Bruce’s refractory period was suddenly nonexistent, right alongside Tony’s. They weren’t exactly sure how Tony was able to affect one of Bruce’s normal, physiological responses, but neither of them were complaining.

Things seemed almost normal, now. Tony was quickly figuring out how to look human while only moderately tamping down on his emotions, and he was beyond comfortable with his tall, red form. It seemed Bruce was the only one who was still upset.

Guilt had been his constant companion since childhood. So he wasn’t sure why this, his blood being used to mutate Tony and take any semblance of normalcy he may have had away from him, was the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it was. His sins were countless and heavy on his soul. Maybe this one was so terrible because he’d once again been the catalyst for bringing pain upon the person he loved most. Tony was mostly comfortable with himself, but there were still times he’d make a joke that wasn’t a joke about looking like a demon, and Bruce wanted to turn himself inside out. He’d done this. It was his fault.

He liked to think he could have kept hiding his guilt from Tony, had Barton not called him what he had. They still referred to Tony as “Iron Man” on the field, but Tony had forced them all to brainstorm new nicknames for him. Steve had vetoed Tony’s own suggestion of “Incubus” as soon as Natasha explained to him what it meant, and Tony didn’t care for Bruce’s favorite, “Phoenix.”

“You always get back up after you’re knocked down, better and stronger than before,” Bruce quietly explained.

Tony smiled at him, clearly touched, but quickly cleared his throat and looked away. “Doesn’t one of the X-Men already use that codename? Better keep it original.”

“Red Devil?” Clint suggested.

“No,” Bruce firmly replied.

“Okay, how about just ‘Sin?’”

Tony grinned. “Perfect. Short, sweet, and to the point. Nice job, Barton.” He clapped Clint lightly on the shoulder. “You managed to encapsulate me in a syllable. I didn’t think it could be done.”

The knots in Bruce’s stomach and panic he felt rising in cottony waves up and into his chest had nothing to do with Tony. Tony was actually pleased, he could feel it, and that only worsened Bruce’s guilt.

It seemed Tony didn’t need to be able to literally feel Bruce’s emotions to figure them out. That, or the fact that Bruce was hiding from him may have tipped him off. He found Bruce in the lab, seemingly consumed by his work.

“Bruce?”

Bruce could feel Tony’s concern. Putting his head in his hands, he sighed in resignation and let Tony turn his chair around to face him.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day. Talk to me.”

The raw concern on Tony’s face had Bruce’s guilt flooding him all over again. He couldn’t keep Tony’s gaze, and shifted his eyes to look at the floor in front of him. “It’s nothing.” His voice sounded soft and false, even to him. He couldn’t even pretend for Tony’s sake. He was pathetic. Tony was the one who deserved to feel any way he wanted to about what had happened to him, and here was Bruce, threatening to ruin the self-acceptance he’d fought so hard for.

“You know you don’t have to lie to me,” Tony gently reminded him. When Bruce didn’t say anything, Tony tried a different approach. “Is this about what Clint said? I could tell that upset you.”

He owed Tony the truth, even more so now that it was impossible to spare him from Bruce’s own feelings. He nodded, still staring at the floor.

It was Tony’s turn to sigh. He stood to his full height, which was about as tall as Thor, and ran a hand through dark hair made to look black against red skin. “I think it’s funny, honestly. Have to be able to own it, you know? And I do have a reputation for hedonism.”

Bruce felt mischievous glee that didn’t belong to him in the pit of his stomach, before Tony added, “I can already see Fox News losing their shit. A superhero named ‘Sin’? If they had a hard time with us being a couple, I can only imagine how they’d react.”

That made Bruce snort a laugh, despite himself. He heard Tony’s footsteps, felt Tony’s supernaturally warm hand on his face, and let him tilt his head up to meet his eyes. Tony stared at him a moment, twin infernos boring into him, before he sighed and dropped his hand.

“This is my fault.”

Tony quirked a brow at that simple admission. “How the fuck is me having incredible superpowers something that warrants that comment?”

Bruce pressed his lips into a thin line. Tony didn’t understand. He couldn’t. “It was my blood they used.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to keep looking Tony in the eye. “I took your normalcy away from you. That’s on my conscience.”

Tony looked up at the ceiling for a moment. His understanding and, to a lesser extent, irritation coiled around Bruce’s insides. “I see. So this,” he gestured to his red form, “is just another fuck up. Another sin. Am I wrong?” he asked in challenge.

Fuck, when Tony said it like that, it sounded terrible. Like Bruce was disgusted with what Tony was, now, and nothing could be further from the truth. “No. No, it’s not like that, not the way you’re thinking,” Bruce insisted, tone desperate.

Tony threw up his hands with a shake of his head. “Then what is it?”

“You didn’t have a choice!”

Bruce crumpled. He put his face in his hands and willed himself not to cry. “You didn’t have a choice,” he repeated, voice somehow calmer and yet more choked. He took a shaky breath and moved his head from his hands, though he kept himself hunched over and refused to look at Tony. “The gamma makes you more yourself. It’s affected by your psychology.” He swallowed hard. He’d never told anyone this, before, never bared his soul like this, before, never given someone the keys to every insecurity and secret he kept hidden away, before. But Tony was special. And Tony deserved to know.

“Of course I love you like this, Tony. You’re so you,” he admitted, breathless in his own adoration. “But you didn’t choose to be exposed, and that’s my sin. And I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to begin to…to repent.” Bruce frowned licking his lips. The word tasted wrong, after all these years. Still, he didn’t know how else to describe it.

The silence that followed would have scared him, if he couldn’t feel Tony’s affection and heartbreak. He was pulled out of the chair and wrapped in Tony’s strong arms within moments, warm skin soothing him wherever it met his own flesh.

“I think this is bigger than what happened to me,” Tony said into his temple.

Bruce hummed. “Maybe.”

“I mean, I’ve always known you’re a lapsed Catholic, but it’s really showing right now,” he teased.

Bruce’s heart stuttered, old fear climbing up his throat and suffocating him. “Brian, my father,” he spat out the tittle that the man didn’t deserve, “may have something to with that.”

Tony’s hold around him tightened as his sharp protectiveness shot through Bruce.

“He used Catholicism to control me. After he…” He couldn’t finish, and he didn’t have to. He could feel the way Tony understood despite not truly knowing. “I thought I’d outgrown it, but…”

Determination, muted by Bruce’s own nostalgic pain and fresh self-hatred, took root. Tony made a clicking noise with his tongue, before asking in a deceptively mild tone, “You up for some role-play?”

Bruce knit his brows and frowned. “My issues with Brian are a little past therapeutic role-play. Besides, if you pretended to be him, I might accidentally punch you,” he admitted.

“Not the kind I was talking about, though hopefully it’ll be therapeutic, anyway.”

Bruce looked at him, even more confused now. It clicked once his pants suddenly felt too confining, and he was overcome with the urge to push Tony to the floor and straddle him. “Ah,” he said, eloquent as ever. He licked his lips, barely suppressing a moan when Tony’s eyes darkened to a deeper shade of yellow at the sight.

Then Tony shifted the position of his hands so they were gripping his ass, and Bruce was helpless to do anything other than buck up against him. He caught Tony’s lips with a gasp, his own hands trailing over Tony’s broad chest. He made an odd noise in the back of his throat when he brushed where the reactor should have been. It was still so odd to see Tony without it.

Tony massaged his ass with one hand, the other moving to palm his cock through his jeans, and Jesus, fuck, he was so sensitized, so in tune with Tony. He licked a nipple, feeling Tony’s growing arousal add to his own, the warm skin and salt beneath his tongue, and then sucked.

Tony let out a gasp that ended in a laugh. “We’re still, oh fuck,” he said when Bruce’s fingers pressed gently against the joint where one of Tony’s wings met his back, making Bruce himself buck harder into Tony’s hand “still role playing, later. I have ideas.”

That Tony would be so turned on by the thought of helping him through this, that he would even think to come up with some scene to try to take away some of his pain, it was too much. He pulled away, hands scrambling to undo Tony’s belt, and then immediately sank to his knees once Tony helpfully pushed his pants and boxers down.

God, he’d missed this. Tony was warm and heavy on his tongue, and his hands in his hair that pulled just shy of gently had him moaning around Tony’s dick in his mouth. He hadn’t blown Tony since the transformation, he realized. His dick had grown proportionately to the rest of him, and Bruce savored the way his lips stretched around its girth, one hand holding the base as he sucked with a firm pressure.

What was that Oscar Wilde quote? “Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.” Bruce agreed wholeheartedly.

Tony moaned, and Bruce swore his own dick grew even harder as Tony’s pleasure pulsed through him, both in his mouth and at the base of his spine. They’d come together every time since the transformation. Perhaps that was why Bruce hadn’t realized just how much of Tony’s arousal he could feel, until now.

It wasn’t long until Tony was fucking his mouth, one hand on the back of his head to keep him still. Bruce’s own hands were braced on both of Tony’s hips, and he let himself fade into the simple, choked pleasure of Tony. He could almost feel a mouth around his own cock. It was almost unbearable, the muted sensation of tight, wet heat, while also being filled near to tears.

He was moaning continuously. They both were, now. Tony’s hips moved erratically, Bruce’s own rolling imperceptibly in a facsimile of Tony’s own motions, fucking into that phantom heat that suddenly felt all too real. Then Tony’s hips stuttered. So did Bruce’s. Warmth down his throat, in his own boxers, heat suffusing his own limbs and making him boneless.

He came back to himself slowly. His head was resting on Tony’s thigh, a hand still buried in his hair. Struggling to process what had happened, he didn’t move until Tony gently pulled at him to stand. He obliged, but stopped Tony before he could sink to his own knees.

Tony looked at him curiously. “Are you seriously turning down a blowjob?”

Bruce cleared his throat and awkwardly pulled at his pants.

Tony’s eyes widened. He looked down at Bruce’s no longer tented crotch and then back at his face in quick succession. “No fucking way.”

“I can feel what you feel,” he said defensively.

Tony’s expression slowly morphed into absolute delight. “Go clean up,” he urged, pushing him a little towards the door.

Bruce could feel Tony’s mischievousness, and he eyed him carefully. “What are you planning?”

“We still have a role play to carry out. Go on.” He shooed him away. “I have to get everything set up. JARVIS will tell you when to come up to the penthouse.”

Bruce made his way to his floor. Thoughts about what Tony was planning had him hard again by the time he made it there, and he cursed Tony’s libido for the first time. Even with considerable, physical distance between them, he could still feel Tony’s arousal, and that combined with his own anticipation had him feeling so horny, he could almost forget about the mess he’d just made of his pants.

He considered jacking off in the shower. The warm spray soothed his muscles and nerves, made him feel safe and heightened his anticipation of what was to come. He had no idea what Tony was planning, but he’d never done anything sexual that Bruce hadn’t ended up loving.

He was fully hard, now and made to grip himself, but instead let his hand fall. It wouldn’t actually relieve anything. He didn’t just want to get off, he wanted Tony. He’d only end up even more frustrated and harder than ever once he finished.

He’d already washed away his cum and was spreading shower gel over a shoulder, when pleasure made his dick pulse and left him breathless. He barely had time to register what had happened, before he felt it again. Moaning, he let his hand trail over his leaking cock. Tony had to be jacking off, he realized.

“Thinking of me?” Tony’s voice said with a laugh through hidden speakers. “I’m thinking of you.”

Bruce picked up the pace, his other hand moving to gently tug at his balls. “Fuck. Fuck, Tony.”

Tony laughed again, but it ended in a moan. “That’s the idea. You know I haven’t masturbated in…I’m not sure how long. It only makes me frustrated. Makes me want you more.” He took a deep, shaky breath, before saying, “Do me a favor. Don’t touch yourself.”

For some reason, that pulled a strangled groan from Bruce. It sounded torturous. Yet, he found his hands dropping to his sides of their own accord. He arched against the tiled wall, into Tony’s ghost of a grip. It was almost enough. Almost.

He whined low in his throat.

“Think of it as another experiment,” Tony said in a soothing tone. Then, with a laugh, “You might want to sit for this.

Bruce was barely on his knees before sparks blossomed over his eyes. “Tony,” he moaned brokenly. He swore he’d felt something rub his prostate. Tony wasn’t holding back. Normally, he muted his power as much as possible unless he wanted to use it, though Bruce could always feel his emotions at least a little. But this was intense. Not only did he feel Tony’s pleasure, he swore he could feel the exact same sensations Tony must have been feeling as if they were happening to him.

“Fuck,” Tony swore. “Now I really do feel like an Incubus,” he said in between gasps. “I want to make you come. Make you come without touching you.”

Bruce arched backwards. He must have looked possessed, hips rocking forwards into the sensation of Tony’s hand, and then backwards onto fingers that weren’t there. He shivered at that. Before he could dwell on it too much, the sensation of something large being shoved into him overruled any other thought.

“Tony?” he asked around gritted teeth.

Then Tony turned on what must have been a vibrator, and Bruce was coming so hard he couldn’t see, couldn’t think, could only feel. When he could think again, he heard Tony laughing breathlessly.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe that worked.”

Bruce just whimpered, despite himself. His dick was already filling, again. “Could you please not be horny for five seconds?” he begged. “If I’m hard for much longer, there are going to be health risks.”

“Uh, hate to burst your bubble, but I’m still flaccid over here.”

Bruce blushed almost as red as Tony’s skin.

“Give me a second to catch up, Mister Insatiable,” Tony said smugly. “And don’t worry, I will catch up, believe me. Throw on some clothes and meet me in the penthouse. I think I’ve got everything in place.”

Bruce swallowed hard. The only sound was the soft patter from the showerhead. His whole body ached to actually feel Tony for real. He shakily got to his feet, cleaned away the fresh mess of cum splattered on his front, and then dressed.

The elevator ride to Tony’s floor had never felt so long, though he was thankfully only half hard, now. When the doors finally opened, Bruce was frozen in place by what he saw.

All of the lights were off, candles casting strange shadows over the walls. A Saint Andrew’s cross had been placed in the corner of the spacious living room. Bruce surveyed the rest of the room, swallowing hard when he spotted a whip laid out amongst the various toys that had been lined up on the couch. And, in the midst of it all, was Tony. He was standing, naked, in front of the hedonistic display, and staring at him expectantly.

Bruce licked his lips, a multitude of emotions at war within him, though his curiosity and desire were bolstered by Tony’s own arousal.

Tony walked towards him, fully erect, and yet truly devoid of shame. Sliding his hand over Bruce’s neck and into his hair, he forced a gasp from Bruce, then made to bite down onto his exposed neck. Bruce braced himself.  He was pleasantly surprised when Tony instead licked a stripe up his neck, stopping only to whisper in his ear.

“The game for tonight,” he began, still holding Bruce’s neck at an awkward angle, “is that I’m a demon you’ve summoned. Your Incubus.”

A whimper tore itself from Bruce’s throat, unbidden. He felt fears so ancient they had been carved into his bones rise up and shake him.

Tony wrapped him in a warm embrace. “Shhh. It’s okay. The safe word is Beryllium. You can stop this any time,” he assured him.

Bruce swallowed, steeling himself, and nodded. With his consent obtained, Tony led him over to the cross and waited for him to strip. He did as he was told, swallowing hard at Tony’s command to not removed his boxers. Leather cuffs were efficiently fastened around his ankles, wrists, and waist, and provided a sort of grounding pressure. Pleased with his handiwork, Tony stepped back and eyed him with a hungry look that made him shiver.

Bruce watched as Tony turned around and picked up the whip from the couch. That sent another shiver through Bruce, this one wracking his body with guilt and desire and shame. His blood wouldn’t hurt Tony, anymore. There was no excuse he could use to back away from what he deserved.

Tony turned the whip in his hands, examining it disinterestedly. “You know what this is for?” he asked in a bored tone.

“Atonement?” Bruce guessed.

The Incubus promptly threw the whip over his shoulder and across the room with a derisive snort. “Correct. But we’re not about asking for forgiveness, where I’m from.” Tony drew closer to the cross, grabbing a wax candle from the coffee table as he did so. He held it over Bruce’s prone form, watching with soft eyes that danced and cast their own shadows, and an even softer smile playing about his lips as the wax dripped onto bare skin.

Bruce gasped at the sensation, at the warm trail that lit up his nerves and was almost as good as Tony’s preternaturally warm fingers trailing down his bare chest. He pulling lightly against his bonds and felt a thrill rush through him when they didn’t give. He couldn’t be sure if the thrill came from him or Tony or both.

“Tonight is about what you want and what you deserve,” Tony continued. He leaned over Bruce, lips mere inches away, yet mercilessly out of reach, and spoke into his mouth, “What do you want, Bruce?”

“You know what I want, Tony,” Bruce breathed.

Tony grinned, his pointed teeth and the curve of his lips making him look positively impish. “Do I? You summoned me. Seems like you should have to tell me.” He threaded his hands in Bruce's hair, nails digging in and drawing a pleased hum from Bruce's throat. “The fact that you summoned me gives me power over you." He dropped his hands, stepping away. Bruce lifted his head up to see Tony watching him intently. "But you knew that. I can make you feel what I feel...”

Bruce sucked in a breath, steeling himself. He couldn't have possibly prepared for the overwhelming affection and desire he felt. He moaned, loud and broken, his cock filling despite himself.

The Incubus in front of him moved the toys from the couch to the coffee table, before grabbing the bottle of lube and popping it open. Bruce watched, his blood singing with lust, skin tingling with the desire to touch, tongue desperate to taste. The intensity of Tony’s feelings tapered off, telling Bruce that Tony had deliberately muted his power, again.

Tony lounged on the couch, coated fingers deftly disappearing as he began to stretch himself. Bruce inhaled sharply at the sight. It was obvious Tony had strategically arranged the room so Bruce could see everything.

He felt phantom pleasure. It was like every other time they’d fucked since Tony’s transformation. Like when they’d first started fucking in the lab an hour ago, before Tony had been too far gone in his own, impending orgasm to keep himself from fully projecting onto Bruce. That general feeling of pleasure, coiled at the base of his spine, was steadily growing, causing his cock to leak, now.

All he had to do was tell Tony what he wanted. _“You. I want you.”_ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t utter them. This was about his penance. This was about what he deserved, Tony had even said so.

“I deserve to be punished,” he said, voice strained and rough.

Tony didn’t respond, instead pulling out his fingers and promptly beginning to fuck himself with a lube covered dildo. He threw his head back, eyes screwed tight and mouth slightly open. Whatever punishment Bruce thought he deserved, he figured watching Tony absolutely lost in pleasure without being able to touch him was a more than adequate substitute.

Bruce couldn’t help but try to move his own hips, now, though the restraints kept him from doing so. Tony’s control over his ability was slipping, and now he could feel the slide and drag of the dildo inside him. He gasped out a breath in time with one of Tony’s own. Just a touch. One touch, and he’d be spilling over his hand. He whined low in his throat.

Tony laughed. Actually laughed, the bastard. “Tell me, ah fuck,” Tony started, only to be interrupted by a groan. “Tell me what you want.”

“I need to…need to suffer,” he gasped out, “for what I’ve done. To you, to everyone.”

Tony suddenly fisted his dick and sped up his thrusts. It took only a moment before he was coming. Bruce watched, dumbfounded. Tony had somehow snatched control back and closed the link between them, keeping Bruce from coming and leaving him needy and aching.

Tony simply laid there for a moment and tried to catch his breath. Eventually, he looked up at Bruce with a shit-eating grin. “I didn’t ask you what you deserve or what you need,” he said, still a bit breathless. “I asked you want you want.”

Bruce swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that caught Tony’s eye. Adrenaline was coursing through him, urging him on. He took a moment to close his eyes. Breathing steadily, reassuring the Other Guy that nothing was wrong. When he reopened his eyes, Tony was standing in front of him. That loving expression, the adoration directed at him, it was too much.

“I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. He choked down a sob, tears stinging his eyes. A hand, warm, so warm, cupped his cheek and tilted his head up until he was meeting Tony’s gaze once again. Bruce couldn’t help but nuzzle into his hand.

“What do you want?” Tony repeated softly.

“I want you.” His voice was broken by the admission. “I want you. Even though you were experimented on against your will and it was my fault.” He sobbed openly, now. He wanted to touch Tony so badly. He wanted to kiss him, hold him, fuck him until neither of them could move and were free to spend the rest of their days intertwined. “Even though I’ve hurt people, and it’s my fault she’s dead.” He watched Tony suck in a sharp breath at that, and knew he didn’t need to elaborate. “Even though he was right and I’m a monster, a demon, a devil, I want you.”

Warm lips were suddenly on his own, and he felt Tony’s body press blessedly against him. “You have me,” Tony growled. Bruce could feel Tony’s possessiveness towards him, and it brought fresh tears to his eyes. “You deserve the whole fucking world, but you’ll have to make do with me.”

Tony released him, then, and Bruce almost lost himself with need at the renewed distance. But then, Tony was making quick work of his restraints, and Bruce was free and wrapping his arms around Tony, devouring Tony’s mouth, nipping at his neck, his whole being thrumming with _mine_.

“Yours,” Tony affirmed, and Bruce realized he must have been saying that out loud.

Bruce took a deep breath, coming back to himself a bit. The panicked need had been sated somewhat simply by being allowed to hold Tony, and even now he refused to release him. They had somehow managed to make it to their bedroom, he realized. Bruce could only assume Tony had directed them. He himself had been too far-gone to even think to move there.

The sight of the bed made him growl low in his throat. He pushed Tony’s larger form onto the bed and straddled him, immediately mouthing at his neck again, leaving long lines of dark, red marks on his skin. Everyone would know Tony was his. That despite whether or not Bruce deserved him, Tony had chosen him, Tony loved him, and Tony was loved back.

Bruce wasted no time in lining himself up and pressing in. He moaned as he did so, slowly, so damned slowly, because he wouldn’t hurt Tony. Not intentionally. He paused, then, letting Tony adjust.

There was a part of him, old and somehow incredibly young, that was terrified of how he’d admitted to desiring pleasure, to desiring Tony, and taking what he wanted. But he was older and wiser, and God, after a life of pain and suffering, how could he truly believe something that felt this good could be wrong? That he could be wrong for taking it when it was offered to him?

He began to thrust into Tony, shallowly at first, and then quickly gaining speed. He wouldn’t last long. He’d been so, so close already, imagining Tony around him, the feeling of being inside him. God, he felt so good. Every time he imagined this, his mind never did the sensations justice.

Maybe he didn’t deserve this. Tony seemed to think he did. Tony, brilliant Tony who was rarely wrong. The same Tony who had guided him to change positions with ease and was now riding him, impaling himself on Bruce’s dick as Bruce clung to him for dear life.

His father had called him a monster, a demon, the devil. His father might have been right or wrong, Bruce wasn’t sure these days. Still, part of him shivered with the thrill of knowing how much dear old Dad would have hated this, how Bruce was currently fucked out, lips red and swollen, cock pulsing as he finally came in his very own Incubus.

By the time he came back to himself, Tony had already finished himself with a few quick strokes, and was already in the process of cleaning up the mess. Tony met Bruce’s gaze and smiled his brilliant smile, moving to kiss him. It was languid, tender in a way that tore straight through Bruce’s insecurities and self-hatred, and left him feeling reassured.

He sighed when Tony finally pulled away, and rested heavily back down onto the bed.

Tony was lying on his side, watching him. “Feel better?”

Bruce smiled. “Much.”

Curled up in Tony’s arms, his inhuman warmth rivaling Bruce’s own and leaving him feeling drowsy and safe, he let himself drift off. What he deserved aside, he had Tony, and Tony didn’t blame him for what had happened. Maybe Bruce could let his guilt go. Maybe he could finally leave the past behind and focus instead on building a future with his Incubus. His Tony. Maybe. Hopefully.

One thing was for certain, Bruce slept better that night than he had in years.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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